Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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OUT OF OUR CENSUS If in this Quincy Hall of Fame You do not find your own fair name, Do not give way to deep regret; Your boy (or girl) friend loves you yet. I. Most popular girl 19. Man-ab out-town Josephine Ward Edward Warmington Most popular boy 20. Class bluffer Nicholas Pepe Rowley Fallon 3- Most versatile girl 21. Blushes the most Jean Muir Gordon Macintosh 4- Most versatile boy 22. Best dancer (girl) Tony Mollica Margery Martin 5- Class jitter-bug 23. Best dancer (boy) Norman Haley William Rendle 6. Class meet hearts 24. Best looking boy Agnes Gallo Robert Kelcourse Fred DeSantis 7’ Class poet -’5- Prettiest girl Roy Hutchins Frances Delaney 8. Class musician 26. Most sarcastic Rowland Young Arthur Granville 9- Class actor 7- Class flirt Fred Dahl Jennie Mucciarone 10. Class actress 28. Class hcartbreaker (boy) Rosemary Logan Richard Grey ii. Class chatterbox 29. Class hcartbreaker (girl) Helen Ricker Marjorie Moran 12. Class artist Class Ferdinand (throws the bull) Ralph Croghan Walter Gustafson 3°- 3• Class athlete Fred DeSantis Best-dressed girl 31- Most carefree 14. Kenneth Normington Barbara Macdonald I5- Best-dressed boy 3 - Class skyscraper Alfred Wuorcla John Salvucci 16. Most dependable Jean Muir 33• Always in a hurry Anna Nimeskern 7- Most likely to succeed 34- Never in a hurry Tony Mollica George Comi 18. Most sophisticated girl 35• Laziest Virginia Bubear Edmund Spinney jntge Fifteen

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THE ROOKIE GRAPPLER By Maurice Battista, ’40 fjl suppose you are all wondering what this title means. Well. I'll tell you. It means a person that has never been in a real wrestling bout, but who has one all lined up with a rival school, and is shaking like a leaf. We are seated in a gymnasium and the rookie is the first one to go on, but he doesn’t know it. In walks a line of wrestlers and he says to him- self, “Wow! Who are all those tough fellows?” They seat themselves, and onto the mat walks the referee, who, by the way, has cauliflower ears as big as potatoes. A bell rings, and oh, the rookie feels sick! His name is called, and a volley of cheers echoes through the half-empty gym. But there is a doubt in his mind whether those cheers are for him or for his rival. He strips off his jersey and walks onto the mat. His opponent follows his example. Boy, what a bruiser! He is all of six feet six, with hair on his chest and a murderous look in his eye. The rookie backs away from him but is grabl ed by the coach, who gives him the last minute instructions. The two opponents meet in the center, they shake hands, the referee repeats the rules, and the wrestlers return to their corners. The bell rings and out they come to the center and clinch in a routine start. They jump around like jitterbugs, as the crowd eggs them on. They’re up; they’re down; no, they’re on their feet again! Oh! the opponent makes a dive and the rookie goes to the mat squirming. They are both fighting hard. The rookie is flat on his stomach! It looks like the finish now. The opponent slaps on a half-nelson, rolls him over, and Gee!—he’s pinned! No he isn’t; he’s up; he’s down; they’re off the mat. The referee brings them to the middle and puts the rookie on the bottom. At the word “wrestle,” they’re off. Five minutes to go and the rookie rolls and falls on the opponent’s back. The crowd cheers, but he can’t hear it. The sweat streams down his body. He slips on a scissors grip, pulls the opponent’s arm back, pushes down his head, and starts to roll him onto his back. But grunt and groan as he may, the opponent won’t budge. There are three minutes to go. The fans arc getting restless, and waiting for a fall. They boo. cheer, and make all sorts of noises, but it’s no use. The wrestlers squirm and wiggle in vain. The opponent is tiring fast. The rookie sees his chance. He pulls the foe over on his back and squeezes his stomach as he would a sponge. The referee is bending over them. He raises his hand and hits the mat. The crowd roars, the referee raises the rookie’s hand, the coach congratulates him, and he is off to the showers. Boy! What a battle! It lasted six minutes, but the rookie has over- come the dread of his first bout and is on his way to a championship. page Fourteen:

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OOPS, MY DEAR By Marjorie Hawco, 40 Have any of you folks ever been so frightened that when you opened your mouth to talk no sound would come? Well, this happened to me a few weeks ago and it was all due to a nightmare in one of those modern conveniences, which some people call planes. I have another name for them! Well, I may as well start from the beginning. My dearest, closest friend (as I thought her to l e before that Sunday rushed me to the airport at Squantum in our old but safe “jaloppy.” I was rather downhearted and doubtful but my excited friend jumped around full of enthusiasm which she tried to transmit to me. We made arrange- ments to go up in fifteen minutes in an open cockpit and spent the intervening time in scrutinizing other passengers as they emerged from the planes. In general, everyone looked all right. I11 fact, some people seemed to be actually joking alxnit it. Just here and there we saw a white countenance in a frame of disheveled hair that reminded me of the wig of an old rag doll I used to play with. This last fact rather dampened our spirits, but we were still game. Eventually, we were summoned and led to our airplane. “To do or die —I reminded myself as I climbed tremulously into the cockpit and cuddled up in the back seat. My friend followed me and we were strapped in and made physically comfortable. In no time the “bird” started to roll and bump along the ground and I have to admit that in the past I’ve sat on more comfortable seats. As we started to rise, so did my insides. I gulped down two or three times and convinced myself that my imagination was working again. Riding along straight wasn’t so bad except that the fierce wind threat- ened to uproot my hair. I accidentally looked over the side of the ship and oooh!! My head began an Irish reel. I weakly sat back in the seat and thought of one of our most popular tunes, “Hold Tight.” The ride lasted only two minutes but it seemed like a lifetime to me. But what I have just related was nothing compared to the embarrassing incident to come. We were going down and I was nearly suffocated with fright. My head just hung limp and I closed my eyes so tight that they hurt. I had taken a tiny peek down and had seen the flying field coming up to meet us. My ear drums were bursting with the roar of the motor and the wind, my stomach was practicing for a trapeze act and my head felt as if it were floating in air like a balloon on the end of a string. How I ever got out of that “modern convenience”, I don’t know, but when I touched “terra firma”, I relaxed in relief. My heart slowly slid back into place while I gently and quietly faded out, my knees buckling from under me. = page Sixteen — ■ — —